


sweet talk

by mvrcredi



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Losers Club (IT), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Confessions, First Kiss, M/M, Richie Tozier in a Band, Song Lyrics, Songfic, band au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21882688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvrcredi/pseuds/mvrcredi
Summary: Richie Tozier is a pain in Eddie's ass. Eddie is not a fan, and does just about everything in his power to avoid the former.So when Richie dedicates one of his band's covers to him, with someverytelling lyrics, Eddie isn't quite sure how to react.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 128





	sweet talk

Eddie was tired. He was stressed, drained, and definitely not in the mood to be dragged to some club near their campus. Bill insists drinking away his worries is a great method of stress relief. Eddie has to disagree, factually, but alas, here he was. Mike, too, but he hadn’t been so adverse.

Of course, Bill has to have chosen the _one_ club with live performances from college cover bands—people he’d unfortunately recognize mediocrely performing songs written by professionals. Eddie can tell by the childish-looking flyer he spots on the door as the walk in. Some band by the name of “January Embers” was in the spotlight for tonight. It sounded unfamiliar, obviously, but he was certain it wouldn’t take long for him to put names to the title.

The music hits Eddie as soon as him, Bill and Mike enter the club. It’s loud, people are dancing, drunk, a combination of the two, and so on. Your average club atmosphere. Also unsurprising. Eddie was unamused, and wanted to be home yesterday.

Bill disappears and reappears with drinks. Only after Eddie downs his first beer does he finally take a look at who was on stage.

He immediately recognizes Beverly Marsh and Ben Hanscom, acquaintances from his psych class. He also sees Stanley Uris, a mutual friend through Mike, though he never thought him the type to be in a band. Then finally, he lands on the lead.

Richie Tozier. The biggest pain in Eddie’s ass since his first year.

While Eddie personally would not consider them friends, Richie seems to think otherwise. If Eddie is ever around he would talk his ear off, make lewd jokes, and flirt unapologetically. Thankfully, this didn’t happen too often as Eddie had learned how best to avoid Richie, and the latter knew his boundaries well enough, but still.

Eddie already hates the fact that Richie sounds _good._ Whatever cover they were currently singing, Richie sure did it justice, Eddie was certain. With Ben playing drums, Bev on guitar, and Stan on the bass, they made for the perfect symphony. Eddie _hates_ it. He hates it because he could listen all night.

Bill nudges him. “See something you luh-like?”

Eddie scowls. “No. I’m just surprised I recognized any of them.” 

His friend laughs. “Sure.”

Despite the distaste Eddie has towards the implication, he can’t help but feel entranced by the band. Sure, their lead was someone he was not a huge fan of, but he’d surely have to mention something to Stanley or Beverly or Ben next time he saw one of them.

Eddie is broken from his haze when the song comes to an end. Richie, with a grin, then announces, “Though this isn’t my own, this next song goes out to a certain someone in the crowd today. Whether or not they figure out it’s them, we’ll see.”

The audience cheers, and the beat starts pumping through the room, all beginning with the keyboard and bass drum. 

_Oh, when it’s cold_

_I get warm just thinking of you_

_When I’m alone_

_I stare at stars and hope dreams come true_

It’s an upbeat song, but still one Eddie doesn’t recognize—though he can safely say he doesn’t like the lyrics thus far. He doesn’t care that it’s only been a verse. The instrumental is good however. Maybe he’s simply biased because of a certain lead singer.

_You’re probably not aware_

_That I’m even here_

_Well you might not know I exist_

_But I don’t even care_

They start into the chorus—at least, that’s what Eddie thinks it is—and that’s when he finally _listens_ to the lyrics being said. He’s not sure he really likes them still, but it strikes a chord in him when he’s nearly _positive_ Richie is looking right at him as he sings:

_Sweet talk_

_Everything you say_

_It sounds like_

_Sweet talk to my ears_

_You could yell_

_“Piss off! Won’t you stay away?”_

_It’ll still be_

_Sweet talk to my ears_

It takes a moment for the words to register in his brain, but it doesn’t take Eddie long to think that, maybe, _possibly,_ this song is directed at him. _Maybe._ Sure, his conclusion seemed a far reach at first, but as they settled into more lyrics, it settled the idea into Eddie’s head that, _yeah, this is for me—_ and Eddie didn’t like that thought one bit.

Eddie turns to Bill. “I think I’m gonna step outside.”

“Already?” Bill raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t make a move to stop Eddie. 

Eddie chugs the remainder of the third beer that managed to find its place in his grip, and heads out. He nearly misses the lyrics, _You might want me to drop dead, but I don’t even care._ He attempts to block the words out, but to no avail.   


_Why is he freaking out about this?_ It’s not like the song couldn’t be meant for anyone else. Eddie wasn’t even one-hundred-percent certain it was directed at him. It would be completely fair for Richie to be talking about someone else.

But that was the thing—Richie annoyed a lot of people, surely, but he didn’t quite get under the skin of anyone else more than Eddie. Additionally, Eddie can _definitely_ recall more than one instance of him telling Richie to fuck off, and yet the gangly, dark-haired, dark-eyed boy would continue joking around. His eyes were always mirthful, and despite how much Eddie claimed Richie annoyed him, he had never minded catching a glance at the soft, genuine look his eyes provided to his friends or generally anyone in his company. 

Why was Eddie thinking about his eyes, now? He didn’t find Richie attractive. He _didn’t. Oh god,_ Eddie thought, _why is this happening?_

Before he knew it, Bill and Mike were beside him. 

“Hey, you wanna tell us what’s up?” Mike coaxes gently.

Eddie blinks. “Nothing’s up. Why would something be up?”

Bill rolls his eyes. “Very reassuring. Of c-course something’s up.”

Eddie is silent a moment. He watches his shoelaces intently. “I think I like Richie Tozier,” he eventually mumbles.

“And you’re s-s-saying this now, because…?”

“The song,” Eddie says. “It was for me.”

Mike starts, “You don’t know that, Ed—“

“I do, though,” Eddie insists, looking to Mike. “I absolutely do. I don’t like that it is, believe me, because that’s seriously messed up if he gets off to hostile interactions with me, but I’m almost sure it is. I mean, he looked right at me at the chorus! That had to mean something, right? _Right?_ Oh god, please tell me it is. Because if I came to the realization that I actually like the asshole I actively avoid like the plague for nothing, then I’m going to be very pissed off.”

Eddie can sense the look Bill and Mike share before any response is made. 

“Eddie…”

Eddie waves Mike off. “Don’t “Eddie” me. I’m going home.”

The walk home is brisk, and he regrets leaving his sweater behind in the apartment—speaking of, as he finally arrived at the apartment, Eddie comes to the realization that he had stormed off without getting the keys off Bill. 

Eddie sits against the door of the apartment, on the verge of tears, purely built up from a variation of emotions he had left pent up. _Oh well._

He contemplates calling Mike or Bill, but eventually decides against it. He, instead, wastes his battery on mindless games until his phone dies, and he’s left alone in the hall. In the end, Eddie winds up falling asleep.

Eddie is uncertain as to how long he’d been knocked out, but he wakes up groggy and disoriented at the jangling of keys hovering above his face. Playing background to the keys was a pair of long, long legs clad in ripped jeans. Eddie doesn’t recall Mike nor Bill wearing those out. He cranes his neck upwards, greeted by the face of none other than Richie Tozier.

Eddie blinks a few times. He squints his eyes, trying to assess whether or not this was a dream, and he was still sleeping by the apartment door. Unfortunately for him, he comes to the conclusion that, no, he isn’t hallucinating or dreaming or anything.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie croaks, snatching the keys. He slowly works his way to standing, and Richie takes a step back.

“I just came to drop off your keys. Bill said he was staying over with Mike,” Richie explains.

Eddie eyes Richie up and down. “And why didn’t he just come by himself?”

“Because I live two floors down.” Richie shrugs. He shoves his hands in his pockets. 

Eddie grunts. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to. What time is it anyways?”

Richie snorts. “You’re welcome. And my gig ended about an hour ago. It’s rounding three AM.”

Eddie nods in acknowledgement, but says nothing in return. Instead, he turns his back to Richie in favour of unlocking the door. It might be nice to get some rest in a real bed. Richie hovers awkwardly behind him, and Eddie isn’t quite sure how to feel about his presence not being super loud and obnoxious for once.

“Want to come in or something?” Eddie offers, though he doesn’t know where it comes from, or why and how the words managed to exit his mouth.

Richie shakes his head, though. “No, I’m alright. Thanks for offering though. I’ll probably get going now.”

He pivots on his heel, but pauses. Richie swings back around, an unidentifiable expression set on his face. Eddie can’t tell where this is going, but he senses he won’t particularly enjoy it.

“You were there at the club yeah?” Richie asks, smiling softly. “What’d you think of the show.”

“It was—“ Eddie wants to say _“It was good”_ and be done with it so he could go inside and pass out in a valid place to sleep, but curiosity wins him over. “That song—“

Richie tilts his head. “What song?”

“The one you… dedicated… to someone in the crowd,” Eddie clarifies. He shifts uncomfortably. “Was that meant for me?”

Eddie can see the cogs visibly working in Richie’s head. The latter’s eyes go wide a moment, an attempt to tame his facial expression is made, but it fails, and Eddie already takes the reaction as a _“Yes, it was.”_ He didn’t know whether to be happy or upset about that.

Richie scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, it was just a stupid cover. It’s not like I wrote the lyrics or anything, I just thought—actually, well. Yes, it was, but you don’t need to take it to heart or anything, I was just—“

Eddie has absolutely no clue where his next actions come from. Whether it be the remnants of alcohol in his system, his fatigue and general lost sense of reality, or just pure idiocy, Eddie’s brain decides his next best move is to surge forward and take Richie by the face, and kiss his soft, _soft_ lips. Albeit slightly chapped, not that he was complaining.

The kiss was a bit sloppy, and definitely not the best Eddie has had, but it still felt nice. His cheeks were rosy as he pulled away, and Richie was grinning, though an eyebrow was quirked in mild confusion.

“Wow, Eds, I didn’t realize—“

Eddie brings him close to kiss him again, and this time it flows much better, as they both have gained an idea as to how to slot together as perfectly matching puzzle pieces. 

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie breathes as they break apart for the second time.

Richie chuckles quietly. “Wouldn’t dream of it if it means I get to kiss you again. Who knew my amazing singing abilities did it for the short-stack.”

“Ugh,” Eddie scoffs, pushing away from Richie. “Fuck off. I’m going to bed.”

As Eddie closes the door, he hears Richie call out, “Wait, I didn’t mean it!” to which Eddie laughs as he hears the distinct _click!_ of the door. While Richie doesn’t continue his protests long after that, a slip of paper is slid under the door, containing what was presumably Richie’s number, as well as a note reading, _Still sounds like sweet talk to my ears ;)_

Eddie sleeps with the note on his bedside table, his first plan of the (later) morning already set.

**Author's Note:**

> the song is 'sweet talk' by saint motel. they're honestly one of my favourite bands, i'd definitely recommend you listen.
> 
> i also hope you enjoyed !!
> 
> comments, kudos, feedback (+ prompts!) are all greatly appreciated <3


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